Now...in An Abundant Society Where

Jen And I Were Accustomed To Our Father's Last-will-and-testament Diction, And Were At Times Free To Interrupt Atticus For A Translation When It Was Beyond Our Understanding.

Now That I Was Compelled To Think About It, Reading Was Something That Just Came To Me, As Learning To Fasten The Seat Of My Union Suit Without Looking Around, Or Achieving Two Bows From A Snarl Of Shoelaces.

There Was Nowhere To Go, But I Turned To Go And Met Atticus's Vest Front. I Buried My Head In It And Listened To The Small Internal Noises That Went On Behind The Light Blue Cloth: His Watch Ticking, The Faint Crackle Of His Starched Shirt, The Soft Sound Of His Breathing. 'your Stomach's Growling,' I Said. 'i Know It,' He Said.

I Wonder How Much Of The Day I Spend Just Callin' After You.

Things Are Always Better In The Morning.